The World Turned into Zombies, So I Went Back to the Countryside to Farm 4p1

Chapter 4p1: Buying a Car

Before leaving in the morning, Jiang Zao circled a date on the calendar:

Days until the zombie crisis outbreak: 89

She called Jiang Wuni while jogging along the riverfront promenade. The sun had just peeked over the horizon, its light scattering across the sparkling river.

She didn’t have to worry about her grandmother not picking up. Late spring and early summer were the busy farming season, and Jiang Wuni was usually an early riser.

Sure enough, she was in the fields watering the spinach.

“Well, well, it’s rare to hear from you this early. Not sleeping in anymore?”

“I won’t be from now on.”

Jiang Zao cut straight to the chase.

“How much grain do we have stored at home?”

Jiang Wuni’s motion of scooping water paused.

“Why are you asking? You run out of food?”

“I’m coming back to live for a while.”

“How strange. Didn’t you used to say you’d rather die than come back to the countryside? What’s wrong, can’t make it in the city anymore?”

The year Jiang Zao was a junior in college, her grandfather passed away. She had only taken two days off to come back, leaving before the seventh-day memorial.

Jiang Wuni still held a grudge, so she couldn’t resist a few snide remarks. It had always been like this, ever since Jiang Zao was a child. Even words of concern were laced with barbs.

Before Jiang Zao could get angry, she continued, “Don’t you worry. This year’s new rice hasn’t been harvested yet, but I still have a few hundred pounds of last year’s old rice that I didn’t sell. It’s enough for you to eat.”

“What about flour, oil, and things like that?”

“I didn’t plant much wheat this year, and it’s not time for the harvest yet. Do you think I can manage all this by myself? My rheumatism has been acting up lately, my back and waist are aching…”

“Alright, I get it. Not much oil either, right? I’ll buy some more. Oh, by the way, a delivery is arriving at the town tomorrow. I bought a freezer for the house, and some other things. I’ve already arranged with the delivery station to have someone bring it to our house. Remember to receive it.”

“Also, from now on, don’t go visiting in the village unless you’re working in the fields. And wear a mask when you’re in the fields!”

With that, Jiang Zao hung up.

Leaving Jiang Wuni utterly bewildered.

“This child, has she lost her mind?! Who wears a mask while working in the fields? Isn’t that suffocating!”

Despite her words, Jiang Zao was the most educated person in the family, so Jiang Wuni would still listen to her.

She had originally planned to go to the market in town after breakfast, but now she decided against it. She would loosen the soil in the vegetable patches instead, turn it over so the vegetables would grow faster and be ready for Zao’er to eat when she came back.

After her workout at noon, Jiang Zao found a nearby café to have lunch and reply to work messages. The payment for some of the ad videos she had shot had already come in. She sent reminders for the ones that hadn’t. A brand also asked if she was available for outdoor shoots, which paid more.

Jiang Zao hesitated for a moment before replying, “Sorry, I’m not taking any outdoor shoots for the time being.”

After replying to the brand’s message, she exited the interface and froze for a second when she saw the familiar “Sunrise over a Golden Mountain” profile picture pinned at the top.

Her thoughts were pulled back five years, to the time she had taken that photo.

Back then, she had just broken into the social media scene. To create content that would generate buzz, she relied on her experience growing up in the mountains and the reckless courage of a novice. She blindly chose a high-altitude trekking route that was highly discussed but not beginner-friendly—the EBC Grand Circle in Nepal—all to get a close-up view of the eight-thousander snow-capped mountains like Everest and Lhotse.

The initial part of the trek went smoothly. On the eleventh day, they camped at Dragnag, at an altitude of 4700 meters, planning to make a summit push at dawn to film the sunrise from the viewpoint. However, a blizzard hit in the middle of the night, and her teammate’s tent collapsed under the weight of the snow.

Disagreements arose among the group.

Jiang Zao insisted on staying and waiting to see if the snow would stop in the morning. After all, they had come this far. The other three—a couple and a university student, all temporary companions found online—had different ideas. The woman in the couple was on her period and showing mild signs of hypothermia. The student, afraid of an accident, also wanted to descend. So, they had to split up. The guide Jiang Zao had hired stayed behind with her.

She huddled in her tent, wrapped in a sleeping bag, clutching the last half-cup of hot water in a plastic bottle, shivering.

The next day, the snow stopped, but there was no sunrise. The guide looked at the heavy clouds over the snow-capped mountains, a sign that a bigger storm was brewing.

The sun-darkened Sherpa’s face was filled with worry as he urged her in broken English to descend, “Please, I don’t want to die here.”

Before descending, she was still unwilling to give up. So, she chose to brave the biting wind and launch her drone. Her fingers were frozen red, but all the effort was worth it. The moment the drone shakily flew above the clouds, Jiang Zao saw the long-awaited sunrise over the golden mountain.

The snow mountain had not let her down.

In that moment, Jiang Zao was overjoyed. With tears in her eyes, she finished filming the footage. Just as she was preparing to bring the drone back, a strong gust of wind knocked the teetering drone down a cliff.

At the same time, the guide shouted, “Go! Go! Go!”

It had snowed all night, and the snow on the mountainside was almost up to her thighs. The guide led the way with his trekking poles, and Jiang Zao dared only to follow in his footsteps, not slacking for a moment.

To the left of the mountain was a perennial glacier. If she fell, not even her body would be found.

After finally navigating the terrifying stretch of traversing the mountain ridge, the wind, mixed with snow pellets, once again assaulted them.

The weather in the mountains was notoriously fickle. It had started snowing heavily again. The swirling snow pellets hit her goggles, and her breath dampened her face mask. The warm air rose, blurring her vision.

Worst of all, she realized her toes were numb. She looked at the guide, who had become a distant black dot ahead. Several times she tried to speak, but the bone-chilling wind pierced her lungs, causing her to cough violently. Her eardrums were ringing.

Her breathing grew heavier, a needle-like pain pricking her lungs. Her temples throbbed. Jiang Zao knew she had altitude sickness. She tried to suppress the fear and anxiety, repeatedly telling herself it was just mild hypothermia and altitude sickness, that she would be fine, that she could make it out by following the guide’s tracks. But when she rounded a bend and completely lost sight of him, panic set in.

Perhaps she had been walking too slowly, and the heavy snow had covered his tracks. She shouted the guide’s name at the top of her lungs, but only the howling, raging wind answered.

Jiang Zao checked her watch and realized she had strayed from the intended path. Thankfully, she still had navigation. The more she tried to get back on the right track, the farther she strayed from her goal, as if she were caught in a disorienting maze.

It was in this state—lost, without supplies, her body on the verge of collapse—that she saw a flicker of light in a mountain pass ahead. Clinging to it like a last straw, Jiang Zao stumbled forward with heavy steps, finally collapsing in front of her tent.

To this day, Jiang Zao still didn’t know her real name. Even though they traveled together once or twice a year, becoming close and trustworthy hiking partners, she only knew her as “Qingshan,” her WeChat nickname.

When she woke up in the hospital, the first person she saw was Qingshan. The woman’s face came into view along with a gentle voice, “You’re awake. The doctor said if you had come down any later, they wouldn’t have been able to save your toes.”

Perhaps the combination of altitude sickness and hypothermia had caused some swelling in her brain, but she could never figure out how Qingshan had appeared there, like a deity descending on the deserted snow mountain to save her dying self. But when the other woman smiled and said, “Maybe it’s just fate,” a needle pricked gently at Jiang Zao’s heart.

“I also picked up your bag for you. I saw that you were clutching the strap tightly even when you were unconscious. The things inside must be very important to you.”

Qingshan took the bag from the bedside and gestured for her to check its contents. Jiang Zao opened it and saw that her phone, camera, and several USB drives were all there. She was on the verge of tears of joy.

“That’s great, all the footage is here.”

The drone had managed to transmit the video to the cloud before it crashed. Jiang Zao charged her phone, and Qingshan pointed to the footage inside.

“You risked staying on the mountain for a night just to film this?”

Jiang Zao showed her her account.

“Yes, I’m an outdoor blogger. This is really important to me.”

“Can you send me this photo? I came to see the sunrise over the golden mountain too, but as you can see, I wasn’t so lucky.”

Qingshan pointed to the photo of the world’s highest peak at sunrise on her phone, the last image the drone had transmitted.

“Of course, of course, I can send you all of this.”

The two of them successfully added each other on WeChat. Jiang Zao sent her all the raw footage from the trip, as well as the medical expenses she had paid. After Qingshan left, Jiang Zao remembered she hadn’t asked her name yet. She quickly grabbed her phone and asked, “By the way, my name is Jiang Zao. I didn’t get a chance to ask you…”

“You can just call me Qingshan.”

Looking at the ID in the chat window, Jiang Zao murmured, “I see the green mountains as so charming, so… her name is Qingshan.”

After returning to Linhai City, Jiang Zao printed out the photo, framed it, and sent it to Qingshan.